


Felicitous Foresight

by Hydra_bitch_please01



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014), Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Mentions of Heroin addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:04:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydra_bitch_please01/pseuds/Hydra_bitch_please01
Summary: Philip Pearson was adjusting to the 21st century, but unlike his team he was struggling to find something outside of their missions to find meaning in, to make living actually enjoyable. Carly had her son. Mac had his wife. Marcy had David. Even Trevor and Grace were starting up something. All Philip had was Poppy, his pet turtle he talked to when alone. It was a lonely existence until one day Philip met a smiling blonde in glasses at a bar and saw a vision of a future he had never imagined was possible for himself.





	Felicitous Foresight

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Netflix show Travelers and I've been obsessed with Arrow for a long time so of course I came up with an alternate universe crossover for the shows *quiet sobbing* just ignore me I'm ridiculous. I really wanted to write Philip with someone outside the craziness of their work, but I still wanted him to bond with someone who might understand his world a bit... SO I decided to put together my favorite two snarky blonde tech geniuses. 
> 
> This was going to be a short fic but it's likely going to be around 10 chapters lol

Philip took a deep breath and twisted his glass of scotch - an alcohol the bartender had suggested, but which smelled horrible - on the sticky bar. Staring at the brown liquor swirl around he knew he wouldn’t take a sip. His host was at risk with any addictive substance, especially since successfully quitting heroin a year ago, despite the one time relapse he tried not to think about. 

 

Although Philip had no interest in switching one addiction for another, he also needed to get out of the garage. Trevor - who still insisted on living with him - was having Grace over for their first official date tonight and Philip wanted to give them some space. After all, Grace had been pissing and moaning for months about Trevor’s unilateral decision to wait until he was officially 18 and out of high school before he would even consider asking her out. Philip understood the legal reasons for Trevor’s hesitation, but Grace quite frankly didn’t give a fuck. That much was very clear. And he had no interest in being in ear range when Grace finally got her way; if she was loud when angry, he couldn’t imagine how loud she’d be when happy. 

 

After walking around aimlessly for a bit, Philip had decided to stop into the closest bar. He’d ordered a drink hoping that would make him fit in - at least that’s what he’d read in the historical record about bar etiquette - and sat down. People barely had enough food to survive in the future; no one was going out and spending an inordinate amount of money on a drink that would ruin their livers and make them feel like shit the next day. They didn’t have the luxury. 

 

The distinctive sound of heels clicking against hardwood flooring next to him caught Philip’s attention, pulling him from his thoughts.

 

“I’m not really a fan of the man bun.” 

 

Philip clenched his jaw, hoping the chatty woman was talking to another man with his hair up at the bar.

 

“Not that long hair on men can’t be sexy. It definitely can. I mean Thor looks pretty hot, but that’s probably mostly the, ya know, abs and arms the size of my head. Adam Driver pulls it off too-“

 

_ Apparently, not,  _ he thought to himself when he caught her looking his way. He continued to stare at the glass of untouched scotch in his hand. “You need something?” he prodded.

 

“Not  _ exactly _ . Though I gotta say, you have cheekbones most women would die for.”

 

Philip huffed a breathy laugh. “Really,” he deadpanned. His interest peaked, but not enough to bother looking up. “But I don’t have the arms of a God.” 

 

“Well, no, but you’re still hot.”

 

His eyebrows rose, crinkling his forehead with lines, at her backhanded and blunt flattery. Sure, plenty of women (and men) had attempted to flirt with him since he’d gotten clean. However, since arriving in the 21st women had always tried to be more coy - well, except Jenny, but she was a traveler.  It threw him off.

 

“And I’m quite content with my own cheekbones, thank you very much.”

 

Philip’s lips twisted into a smirk, despite his attempts to appear neutral.

 

“I’m Felicity.”

 

He didn’t respond. He didn’t move. 

 

“Are you okay?” she finally asked after a few moments of awkward silence. 

 

“I’m fine.” 

 

“ _ Sure _ , you are,” she scoffed. “You haven’t stopped staring at the alcohol in your hand or taken a single sip for over fifteen minutes. You’re an addict.” It wasn’t a question. “Do you need me to call someone?” she asked softly.

 

Philip sighed and looked at his watch. Refusing to glance at the nosy woman, he carefully choose what he’d say. “It’s been more like 90 minutes, but I’m fine. Scotch isn’t my drug of choice. Believe me, I’ve quit harder shit than this.” 

 

Felicity sat down next to him. 

 

Grinding his teeth, he cursed himself at the inaccurate deduction that she’d walk away when he’d overshared. 

 

“Well, NA doesn’t approve of alcohol consumption either,” she mumbled, slapping the counter. “Can I get two club sodas, please?” 

 

The bartender came back with drinks seconds later, sliding them to the mystery girl as she paid, but Philip refused to budge.

 

“Did Marcy send you?” 

 

“I don’t know anyone named Marcy, but I’m thinking she probably should’ve sent someone. How about you let go of  _ that, _ take this one and give me your girlfriend’s number?” 

 

“I don’t have a girlfriend and who the fuck are you?” 

 

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes reached hers, an entrancing ice blue with flakes of grey hiding behind glasses. In seconds, he took her in, committing her image to memory with ease like he did with everyone he met. A blonde woman with thick black framed glasses, smooth pale golden skin, a thin silver septum ring and crimson plump lips with a sharp cupids bow was smiling softly at him. Arm resting against the bar top, her hair fell in waves down her shoulders grazing the neckline of a simple cobalt tank top that brought out the blue of her eyes. Swallowing, he stopped staring. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to overstep,” she said quickly. “I just thought -“

 

Philip’s vision went fuzzy and the blonde’s words became far away as if lost underwater. The bar disappeared and warped into a haze of sand under his feet and an ocean around him. The sound of waves crashing in the distance. But he wasn’t looking at the vague and hazy background. No. Philip couldn’t stop staring at the blonde woman standing next to him with beautiful kind blue eyes - skin glowing in the sunset - wearing a white satin gown. Her lips stained with red were pulled wide into one of the most stunning smiles he had ever seen; the slightly hint of dimples along her cheeks poking out adorably. He glanced to where she was looking and saw himself. A much happier version of himself, grinning, his hair pulled up in a tight bun and wearing a suit. 

 

Inhaling sharply, his brain registered the image in front of him.  _ It’s a hallucination,  _ he reminded himself, but it felt too real. 

 

He felt the wind whip against his face as a strand of her blonde hair unraveled from behind her ear and flew in her face, getting stuck on her lipstick. Philip, or a version of himself, smiled and lightly pushed her hair behind her ear while she looked up at him with a kind of hopeful reverence in her eyes that almost took his breath away.

 

He blinked and the world came back to him: the bar smelling of scotch and gin and loud sports fans yelling. Heart pounding and head spinning, Philip took a deep breath. Stomach twisting with something unfamiliar he turned his head away from her as he tried to process what he’d just seen. 

 

Philip’s breath hitched when his eyes landed on a booth across the bar. In it sat a couple, the same blonde woman - Felicity? Was that her name? This time she was wearing a simple black dress and leather jacket. Felicity was curled into Philip’s chest, her hand on his chest. His arm around her shoulders as he whispered into her ear. She twisted in his grip and pulled him down for a searing kiss that made Philip freeze.

 

He looked happy, Philip realized shocked, as he watched himself get lost in the blonde’s embrace; all his life, he doubted he’d ever been truly happy. The mission always came first. Ever since he could talk, experiments and preparing for missions were all he knew. He had moments growing up with his mother. Yes. Moments as an adult. Yes. Even moments in the 21st with his friends. But barely. 

 

Pale as a ghost, Philip blinked away the projections and turned back towards the woman who might be his future; Something he’d convinced himself he’d never have. A relationship. Happiness. Love. 

 

Everyone else on the team were adjusting to the 21st, establishing real lives as protocol five demanded. Even Trevor was finding ways to enjoy his host’s life. As long as it didn’t affect the mission, why couldn’t he too? Just because it went horribly wrong with Jenny didn’t mean it always would. Right?

 

Pushing down his spiraling thoughts, he looked down. Felicity’s warm and comforting fingers brushed against the back of his hand - the sensation making him swallow - as she pushed a glass of water in front of him.

 

“You okay?” Felicity whispered.

 

He saw a distorted flash of a diamond on her ring finger and blinked again. It disappeared; her ring finger was ringless once more. He swallowed again, his throat unbearably dry, and couldn’t decide if he was more relieved or saddened at the realization.

 

She took the glass of scotch from him, their fingers brushing again, and silently gave it to the bartender. 

 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He glanced up to find her staring at him with raised eyebrows. “My name’s Felicity. And you are?”

 

Somehow, he found the will to speak, though his voice was painfully hollow. “I’m Philip.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Philip.” Felicity grinned. “You can either give me your phone so I can contact your sponsor, Marcy or a person of your choosing or I can take your phone and do it without your approval. Either way, you shouldn’t be alone right now - that much is  _ very _ clear.”

 

Philip opened his mouth - about to say something he shouldn’t to a 21ster - and closed it. Mind still on the projected timelines, he absentmindedly let his eyes wander down her face and neck to the curve of her shoulders and breasts. Jaw taut, he stopped himself quickly and looked up.

 

Felicity smirked at his blatant ogling. She eyed his phone with raised eyebrows and said, “Pick your poison, Philip.”

 

Deciding to go along with her game, he handed her the iphone. “Good luck,” he stated dryly as she took it from it, knowing damn well the average 21ster would never get through his firewall. He sat back and took a sip of the carbonated water, figuring he had at least five minutes before she gave up. 

 

“I’m in.”

 

“You’re  _ what _ ?” It had only been 185 seconds, tops. 

 

She lifted the phone and showed him his home screen. “So who should I call?” 

 

“That’s impossible. How did you do it?”

 

Felicity smiled wider, pushing her glasses up with her middle finger. “A lady never shares her secrets.”

 

“Are you a traveler?” he demanded in a momentary spurt of paranoia. 

 

“I mean, I’ve traveled a bit. I moved to Boston for college and moved here five years ago. Otherwise, no. Not much. But I don’t see how that correlates here,” she said with confusion and raised eyebrows. 

 

He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his emotions. The faction was gone. He needed to let it go. “Boston, huh?” he said, hoping to divert the conversation away from his fuck up. 

 

“Yep. MIT.” 

 

“What did you study, Felicity?” Philip asked softly, already guessing the answer. 

 

“Cyber Security and Computer Sciences, but I also have an MBA.” He nodded, but she continued before he could reply. “I’ve been building computers since I was seven. I can hack a phone in my sleep. Hell, I could hack into the FBI servers, easy.” She put up her hand. “Not that I have or would want to.  _ Ever _ . I just meant, a phone’s easy. Even yours.”

 

Philip smirked at the evidently brilliant and flustered babbling blonde. “Really?” he asked, as he studied her face with fascination, remembering every curve and line to her skin.

 

Felicity’s eyes went wide and her mouth twisted into an O shape. “Oh shit, you’re not a cop are you? Please say I did not just confess to illegal activity to a cop.”

 

Laughing, he said, “No. Though I do work with an FBI agent.”

 

“Oh, that’s worse.”

 

Philip placed his hand on hers. Ignoring how soft her skin felt, he looked up and locked eyes with her. “Don’t worry. Your secret talent is safe with me,” he whispered, leaning in. 

 

Felicity's breath hitched ever so slightly as the blacks of her eyes dilated under her large frames. From the flush on her neck he’d noticed seconds ago, he could logically deduce her heart rate had increased as well. 

 

The beauty and curse of being a historian was his brain could take in over 10 times the amount of information of a non modified consciousness. Meaning he’d notice and remember this conversation - every breath, every touch, every eye movement - like it happened yesterday for years. Smiling sadly at the reminder of his reality, he removed his hand and leaned against the back of his barstool to distance himself from her.

 

The blonde cleared her throat and ran her hand through her hair. “Are you a coder?” she asked. “Because your iphone’s been heavily modified.”

 

“Something like that,” he mumbled.

 

“So,” Felicity continued slowly, suddenly holding up his phone. “Should I call someone?”  

 

Philip internally groaned, unable to form the words that he had no. The team were all at home now, yes, but he didn’t want to bother them and he certainly wasn’t going to call Trevor away from his date. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to whoever you’re here with?”

 

“I’m not on a date, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

 

“That wasn’t, actually,” he muttered as he awkwardly looked away.

 

“Regardless,” Felicity continued undeterred, “I’m here with my friend Catlin and thought you looked like you could use a friendly face.” 

 

When he didn’t answer she put his phone down and touched him again, her fingers gently caressing his wrist, sending a spark through him. “You wanna talk about it?” 

 

“Talk about what,” he whispered. 

 

“About whatever’s bothering you.” 

 

“Not particularly.” 

 

“Okay,” she said, letting go of his wrist. “Just a friendly suggestion, please talk to someone. Call your sponsor. Go to a friend’s house. Something. And maybe next time you get the urge to go to a bar or call your dealer, you go to a coffee shop instead. Caffeine, while addictive, has a hell of a lot less bite in it’s withdrawal,” she teased a little too lightly.

 

Amused for the first time in god knows how long, he glanced up and smiled. She was so unlike the people he constantly danced around since arriving in the 21st. She seemed intelligent and genuine, empathetic. Something he was severely lacking in. 

 

She smiled in return. “And maybe give me a call. I always love a good cup of coffee.”

 

Before he could reply that he didn’t know her last name let alone have her number she walked to a booth towards the back of the bar and sat down across from a woman with long brown hair in a suit. Figuring he lost his shot, he picked up his phone and flipped it over to see the contacts page open to a new entry with the name Felicity Smoak and a cell number typed in.

 

Smiling, he took a yellow pill out of his pocket, popped it in his mouth and downed the water in one gulp. The director rarely shared information with him that related to his own life, but maybe, just maybe, this was a sign.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are inspiration <3 Come follow me on tumblr if you wanna @fabradicalfem


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